


The Lost Infanteer

by CoffeeCarbide



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeCarbide/pseuds/CoffeeCarbide
Summary: A veteran of the Astra Militarum awakes in the aftermath of an artillery strike, finding himself alone to continue his mission.
Kudos: 3





	The Lost Infanteer

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance for any errors, I'm not the most experienced writer and my mind is a little preoccupied at the moment. I lost my job recently thanks to the pandemic, so I figured I would at least make an effort to do something productive.

My radio let out an irritating screech as it malfunctioned, I quickly yanked free the cable connecting it to my helmet feed. My breathing heavy behind the respirator, I looked up at the silica gently drifting down like a summer snowfall, much of it hanging in the air like a dense fog. Through the haze I could make out the gaping wounds torn across the facade of the apartment block before me. The faint sound of straining steel and small fractured concrete bouncing off my helmet mixed with the distant orchestra of gunfire. Rays of sunlight rippled through the dust, casting a serene amber light. I turned to sit on a hunk of rubble, almost falling as my armor turned from plastisteel to lead in a moment. My eyes closed of their own volition, feeling a strain on my neck. Was my head always so heavy?

A shrill scream cried out in the distance, Emperor forgive me, I wished to feign ignorance. Yet regardless, my body betrayed my desires, and I stumbled to my feet. Wiping away the dust collected on my visor, I scanned the ground and soon enough found my target, the battered lasgun now coated in the cancerous white powder. I offered it a few love taps to knock free the worst of it, and turned to the apartment. My rifle now found itself performing extra duty as cane, machine-spirit be damned, if it wants to get off this forsaken planet then it will have to put up with the indignity. As I stepped through the door, I was struck by the eerie red glow of the emergency lights, as they mixed with the dust swirling in the air. Were it not for bodies strewn around, butchered beyond recognition, it would have looked like the hall of a hive-city whore house. This place was a graveyard, and a deep foreboding creeped into my veins. 

As I reached the stairway, I saw the pile of rubble laying at it’s feet. With each step, the debris slipped against my boots with an awful grating noise. Why was I doing this? The sounds of the war raging outside dulled with each step, making me feel all the more alone. I should return to my brothers-in-arms, yet an unseen force was wrapped around my heart, pulling me deeper into my grave. A shaft of light washed over my body, drawing my eyes to the hole at the end of the unending flight, a ladder to the heavens. And then, in a flash it was gone. The heavy drops of rain echoed louder than my heartbeat, as they spattered against the dull concrete. Perhaps this is what He wills, this is my path to peace. All that would come of survival, is another planet, another war, another daemon to await me in my dreams, and another comrade’s cries to wake me.

Then it came, an indistinct frenzied chattering above me, in an instant my legs froze, and my arms practically threw the rifle into my shoulder. My eyes narrowed, instincts silently synchronising with the metronome of my heartbeat, slowing it, widening the respiratory pause. My malaise evaporated as I took slow, deliberate steps up to meet the source. They returned the favor, as I heard the frantic and ill-timed steps slamming down the staircase above me. The offender called out in unfamiliar tongue, and I faintly heard his comrade answer him in a rough mechanical shout. _Astartes? That changes things_. I quickly paused my advance and leant my lasgun against the wall to draw my combat knife, just in time for the heretic to jump into view. Contorted and unnaturally pallored, his visage flashed with hesitation and fear. I was upon him like a beast, gloved hand wrenching at his jaw and driving the blade through his gullet. As we crashed into the wall behind him, the blade sunk an inch farther with an audible crunch, leaving his body to convulse involuntarily. His eyes and mouth contorted, attempting to scream either in terror or in rage. The only sound he accomplished was a repulsive gurgle as I slid the blade free. 

As I left the man to his fate, I wiped the blood from my bayonet and slid it over the lasguns muzzle, a quiet click as it locked into place. It would do little, if anything against an Astartes, but it would be plenty adequate to deal with his companions. I instinctively reached to grab the melta-bomb clipped to my belt, it was a heavy fucker I resented on most days, but against armor? Accept no alternatives. The blast radius was tiny and direct, but what it touched, it vaporised. With my rifle at the ready, I continued my advance, carefully taking each step one at a time, now was not the time to roll an ankle. As I ascended, their talking became increasingly distinct. The Astartes let out a roar of pain, and the apologetic chittering of a high-pitched traitor turned into a squeal, cut short and followed by a meaty thud. After a pause, others began arguing amongst themselves in that strange dialect.  _ Typical of these rabble, left to their own devices they’re as much a danger to themselves as they are to me. _

Finally I reached the right floor, the walls covered in ruinous glyphs and the carpet littered with gore. And a doorway, or what remained of one. Only rubbled remained where it should have been, confirming my fears. I paused for a moment, fingering the lasgun in my hands, my gloves were well fitted, but now they felt several sizes too large. With a deep breath, I relented and simply squeezed the weapon harder, stepping forward ever so slowly. My eyes flashing down for milliseconds at a time. _Do not trip, do not drag your boots, do not cough, do not breathe too loud, and Emperor, if you’re there, let this floor not creak._ Taking my position a foot from the entrance, their arguing was at a crescendo, and as they ran back and forth their footsteps were deafening. _Dear God-Emperor, please forgive your servant his sins, remember, I am-_

Footsteps approached the doorway. I braced myself, thoughts and vision shining with clarity, time slowed to a crawl as the traitor entered my sights. A deafening cry of fury erupted as my bayonet pierced his chest, I squeezed the trigger and watched as it exploded and gore sprayed across his face. It was then I realized, I was the one screaming. I felt His hands pushing me forward, and I knew no fear. The room was missing its back wall and some of the floor, ripped apart by artillery. Silhouetted against the stormy cityscape, a pair of cultists were skittering over flayed corpses to grab their rifles like vermin. The first was cut down with a burst of lasfire as I rushed forward towards the other, throwing the stock of my rifle up to shatter his jaw. As he reeled, I kicked with everything I had, and sent him to the streets below. Emperor forgive me, that scream sounded far too sweet. But as I relished in it, the Astartes began barking commands, and I spun around to see the flash of a stubber from around the corner of an improvised doorway, one bullet struck my chest and sent fragments splintering off my flak jacket. I leapt aside and let loose a hail of fire, the torrent streaking along the wall until the stubber fell. The already blood stained floor began to be rejuvenated with fresh libations. I quickly dropped my lasgun and grabbed the melta-bomb, knowing what must come next. Yanking the long pin free and letting it clatter to the ground, I could feel the grip safety pressing against my fingers.

I stalked towards the entrance, my only hope that I could get close enough to attach the bomb. With one last deep breath, I crossed the threshold into the room. I stopped in my tracks at the vile sight, the behemoth slumped against the wall in a pool of its own gore, with blood practically pouring through the jagged holes in the floor. An arm and much of his chest was gone entirely, revealing his inhuman organs pulsating through the gap in his armor. Large holes pockmarked his helmet, the visor black and filled with shattered glass. Even his legs seemed to have been shredded to the point of worthlessness. Power armor might be tough, but nothing can withstand a rocket barrage like this traitor had received. I glanced down at the melta-bomb, wondering if it would be too merciful to let him be snuffed out so quickly. But as my eyes looked out over the fallen city, I realized it was better to make sure nothing of this monster could remain which his brothers might salvage. I walked up to him carefully, cautious of his surviving arm. I quickly thrust the device forward and it smacked against his breastplate, the traitor growled and swung blindly at me, but I was already out of his reach. The magnet snapped the device in place against what remained of his armor. 

As he helplessly pulled at the device, the charge activated. The room filled with his screams and the sickening sounds of boiling flesh. What was left of his innards poured out of every crevice, it was an awful sight, but I could not pull my eyes away. He soon fell silent, and I thanked the Emperor for my respirator, so that I did not have to smell that stench. I left the corpse to rot, snatching up my lasgun and beginning to walk away. Until I heard a faint crying rising from the one room I hadn’t cleared. As the thunder roared and the rain beat down with new intensity, I advanced on the closed door, rifle at the ready. 


End file.
